


It Comes Knocking

by mxartbotboy



Category: The Mandalorian (LadyIrina AU), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Fake Character Death, Gen, M/M, Mystery, Non-Graphic Descriptions of Gore, Star Wars creature, Thriller, force illusions, ghost ship story, halloween fic, love me some spooky times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27231505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxartbotboy/pseuds/mxartbotboy
Summary: Din straightened, closing the star chart, “There’s no refuelling stations nearby; we’re pretty far out. Our client is going to have to provide.”“Well,” Corin said as Din sat in the pilot’s seat, “Let’s just hope that–”He was interrupted by a loud beep indicating an incoming signal and the flash of a red light lit up the console. Corin exchanged a look with Din and then they both eyed the light warily. A distress signal.~~Din and Corin receive a distress signal from an abandoned freighter that isn’t as abandoned as they once thought.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret) & Din Djarin, Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/Din Djarin
Comments: 25
Kudos: 61
Collections: High Council Bounty 10/20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Family and Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758992) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are: my 2020 Halloween fic! I’m fairly pleased with how it turned out and I hope you enjoy a little spooky Mandorin adventure. I’ll be updating a new chapter every day leading up to Halloween, so check back tomorrow for the next installment!

_In the silence, it comes knocking_  
_along the starboard outer hull._  
_Never when the ship is docking,_  
_always when the nights are dull._

_And should you dare to take approach_  
_to see what’s all the din._  
_Just take care to what you might_  
_mistakenly let in._

_-old pilot’s rhyme_

~ ~ ~

The ship rumbled beneath Corin, and he started. Blinking away the last remnants of his nap, he sat up in the passenger seat of the cockpit, watching as the stretched blue lines of hyperspace warped back into the scattering of stars. He sighed and reached over, calling up the standard post-lightspeed ship diagnostic. Fumbling with sleep over the buttons, he stifled a yawn as he watched the blinking light indicating the diagnostic was running.

They were halfway to a rendezvous with a potential client, and with four days already under their belt in travel, Corin hoped that the job would be worth it. The client was highly secretive about their location and had given them three sets of coordinates to follow through three different jumps. Rubbing at his eyes, Corin stood. The third jump would be the longest and Corin knew they had to check on their fuel supply before making it.

“Have a good nap?”

Corin jumped, heading shooting up and banging on the corner of the upper console. A sharp pain crackled through his skull and an urgent and gentle hand pressed onto the back of his neck. Corin opened his eyes to his own reflection in a black visor, tipped to the side with concern.

“You really snuck up on me there,” Corin said, checking his hand for blood when he pulled it away from the ache at the crown of his head.

“Sorry, I thought you heard me come in,” Din replied, squeezing the back of Corin’s neck, “You okay?”

“I think so.” Corin’s attention was drawn to the child in Din’s arms, who was making little chirps and reaching his hands up to Corin with a frown. Corin smiled and held up his clean, bloodless hand, “I’m okay _ad’ika_. No injury to heal here.”

Passing the child off, Din stepped around Corin to lean over the console, reading through the finished diagnostic, “Looks good. Should have just enough fuel for the last jump, but we’ll need to refuel when we get there.”

“Shouldn’t we look for somewhere to refuel now?” Corin asked, sitting back down in the passenger seat. The child had grabbed onto one of his fingers and was bending it back and forth in his hands with quiet burbles. “I don’t want to get stuck there.”

Din pressed a few more buttons to bring up a star chart. The lines of text flashed across his visor as he read, flickering blue and yellow. Corin still never tired of looking at Din, watching how light reflected off the curve of his helmet or the slightest of movements that meant the difference between anger and happiness. Despite the stress of the long space flight, there was something familiar about this, about discussing refuelling and examining maps with the child in his lap. Familiar and comfortable.

Din straightened, closing the star chart, “There’s no refuelling stations nearby; we’re pretty far out. Our client is going to have to provide.”

“Well,” Corin said as Din sat in the pilot’s seat, “Let’s just hope that–”

He was interrupted by a loud beep indicating an incoming signal and the flash of a red light lit up the console. Corin exchanged a look with Din and then they both eyed the light warily. A distress signal. Fingers flying over the console, Din didn’t say anything.

Corin cleared his throat, “I thought you said we were pretty far out?”

“We are.” Din paused, “Scanners show a ship about twenty kilometres away. It seems to be the source of the signal. A standard distress call, nothing coming through on the voice channel.”

The following silence was only broken by the steady beeping of the distress call. Even the child had grown quiet, ears twitching as he looked between Corin and Din. Though the signal sent a prickle of bad luck down Corin’s spine, there was also the heavy feeling in his gut that they couldn’t ignore a distress call. If something had happened to them, wouldn’t they want the first ship that passed them by to offer assistance?

Din spun his seat around to face Corin. For a moment, they stared at each other, quiet. And then, as if reading his thoughts, the Mandalorian sighed, shoulders sagging, “We’ll check it out.”

Leaning forward, Corin placed his hand on Din’s knee, “Thank you, _cyare_.”

Din covered Corin’s hand briefly before turning back to the console and bringing the Crest around to follow the coordinates of the ship. Quickly, it came into view; it was hard to miss as they approached. It was a large and bulky Baleen-class heavy freighter, hanging eerily still in the glow of the system’s orange sun. Din brought the ship above it, the expanse of the freighter’s cargo bay stretching out beneath them.

As Din halted the Crest in the space above the freighter, he opened a comm channel, “Hello, is anyone there? Do you require assistance?” Nothing but static spoke in response, the beeping of the distress call remaining. Din looked over at Corin and shrugged, “Could be abandoned. Don’t know what help we could provide anyways.”

Corin nodded, settling back in his seat. If no one was responding, it seemed unlikely that anyone was left on board. It could have been attacked by pirates, or one of the major systems had failed and killed the crew. The thought made Corin fairly sombre and he hugged the child a bit closer, who had grown silent in their approach.

“It was worth checking out. You know, just in case.” Corin ran a fretful finger over the child’s ear. Something still wasn’t sitting right with him, but there was no use in wasting time on an empty ship.

Just as Din had gripped the steering yolk and turned the ship around, though, the voice channel suddenly crackled to life, “Please, is someone there? Please, you have to help us!”

The voice sounded frantic, and Din straightened the Crest out. “Copy that. What’s going on down there?”

“I don’t have time to explain, you have to help us, please!”

“We’re docking at the far end of the ship, hold on.” Din quickly scanned the ship and located one of the docking hatches, bringing the Crest about and lowering it down. The Crest shuddered as it locked down and Din powered it into standby mode.

Oddly, the voice had grown quiet. Corin tried not to linger on it as he settled the child in his bassinet. The child immediately grabbed the edge and tried to pull himself up, burbling. Gently, Corin pushed him back, wrapping a hand gently around one of his tiny shoulders, “No, _ad’ika_ , you stay here while we check it out.”

“You’ll both stay here.”

Corin jerked his head around to look at Din, who was checking over his blaster, “What? No, I’m coming with you.”

“We don’t know what’s on that ship,” Din replied, frustratingly calm, “I need you to stay with the kid in case something goes wrong.”

“But-”

“Don’t argue with me Corin, you know I’m right.”

Corin closed his mouth, and instead crossed the cockpit to rest a hand on Din’s arm. Din turned to him and sighed, holstering his blaster, “You know I’ll be careful.”

Corin tipped his head forward until it was resting on Din’s in a gentle _kov’nyn_. The Mandalorian leaned into the touch and they held it for a moment before Din stepped back, “I won’t be long.”

And then he disappeared through the doorway

~ ~ ~

Climbing down the ladder into the cargo bay, Din already felt exhausted. He had a bad feeling about this freighter, but the weight of that terrified voice over the comm was heavy on his mind. It was true that they didn’t really have time, but he hadn’t even bothered asking what Corin had thought. The man had one of those looks on his face, the kind that said he wasn’t going to back down, and the kind that Din usually couldn’t resist.

He would make this quick. Help any injured, assist with some basic repairs to get them going again, and then they would be on their way. Din approach the hatch in the floor and just as he reached for his vambrace to open it, the cargo bay was suddenly swathed in darkness.

“What the–” Din opened a comm to the cockpit, “Corin, did the power go out?”

_Power levels look fine to me_. Corin’s voice echoed in his ear and Din turned to look back at the ladder. There wasn’t even any light filtering through the opening from the cockpit.

“Are you sure? It’s _kriffing_ blacked out down here.”

There was a short pause before Corin responded, _I’m checking again right now, but everything should be working_.

That was when Din heard it.

**Knock, knock.**

In the dark, Din turned to look at the hatch. When the lights had gone out his helmet had automatically switched to night vision, but even then he could barely make out the circle of the hatch in the floor, lit up a faint green.

**Knock, knock.**

Din walked over until he was standing over the hatch. That had definitely come from the other side. He crouched down and placed a hand on the durasteel. Even through his gloves, he could feel that it was cold.

“Hello?” he called out. There was no response, but Corin’s voice sparked to life again over the comm;

_I’ve just checked the power levels again and everything seems to be–_

**KNOCK, KNOCK.**

The bangs vibrated through Din’s arm up to his shoulder and he quickly pulled his hand back, typing the command in the vambrace to open the hatch. Nothing. The hatch remained closed.

_Din? Everything okay?_

“There’s definitely something wrong with the power, I can’t open the hatch.” Reaching forward again, this time Din curled his hand into a fist and with a light tap, knocked twice on the durasteel.

Light flooded his sensors and he blinked, blinded for a moment. Corin must have gotten the power back on. Din moved to try and open the hatch again, and froze. The floor in front of him was bare and smooth. He looked up, blinked, and then slowly straightened to a stand.

He wasn’t on the RazorCrest anymore.

A long hallway stretched out before him, cramped and low, with paths branching off in a grid every few metres. While it had been bright initially, once Din’s sensors had evened out, he could see that the lights were quite dim, possibly in power saving mode. Pieces of junk were scattered across the floor and panels hung precariously from the walls. Further down, Din could see that one of them was sparking in an irregular rhythm, and distantly he could hear some sort of alarm. He turned, looking behind down down the hall that also ran forever behind him. Something was familiar about the layout and, cautiously, Din opened the comm channel again.

“Corin? Do you copy?”

_Din, I’ve tried everything, the power levels are fine_.

“I’m on the ship.” Something prickled uneasily down Din’s spine as he spoke, taking a slow step forward to peer down one of the intersecting hallways. While it seemed certain that he was now on the freighter, how he managed to become so remained unclear. And he was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr at [mxartbotboy](https://mxartbotboy.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

“Corin? Corin, are you there?”

With a huff, Din closed off the comm channel, leaning his head against the ladder up to the freighter’s hatch. Whatever was affecting the power levels of the freighter had to be affecting the Crest as well. He just hoped that Corin wouldn’t panic when he realized the comms had been cut off and would instead focus on trying to fix it. While he loved the man more than he could say, Corin had a tendency to act first and think later, especially when it came to the safety of Din or the kid.

What bothered Din the most was the absence of anyone around. There had definitely been someone on the other side knocking but as far as Din could see, there wasn’t any sign that someone had been there. And then there was the matter of how he had gotten onto the freighter in the first place. Something was going on and Din didn’t like it one bit.

He jumped back down from the ladder and tried one more time to connect with Corin over the comm. Nothing except a faint static. Din sighed. Best thing would be to find the cockpit and see if he could make a better connection there, maybe even find out what had happened to the ship.

Picking a direction at random, Din started down the hall, careful of the rubble scattered haphazardly across the floor. It looked as if something had gone through the whole ship and destroyed it, shooting up the walls and ripping out panels. Many of the lighting panels in the ceiling had been blown out and any stretch of wall that wasn’t hanging in pieces was scorched with blaster marks. Most of the illumination came from the yellow emergency strips along the floors, sending shadows across the ceiling that flickered when Din walked by. What had happened here? There were certainly signs of a struggle, some kind of fighting for sure, but where were all the bodies? This kind of destruction had to warrant some kind of casualties, but with every corner Din turned, there was only more wreckage and dim lighting.

Until he turned a corner to a set of blast doors, three quarters closed. He sighed, looking back over his shoulder. More hallway of the same stretched out. He turned back and took a step closer, peering through the opening in the doors. There was some kind of light down at the end of the hall that was brighter than everything else and relief sparked in Din’s chest. Regardless of whether or not it was the cockpit, it was something different from this maze he was stuck in.

Grounding himself, Din placed his hands on the upper part of the blast doors and gave an experimental push. With the ship most likely on emergency power, all of the doors should have engaged their manual mechanisms so they could be opened if needed. This is what Din was banking on, and he was rewarded when the door shifted with a groan, the top rising up and the bottom sinking down. It was stiff, though, and Din had to put all of his weight into the door to slowly pry it open. Some rubble was piled up on the other side of the door and it shifted at the movement, creaking dangerously. But Din didn’t have to open the doors all the way, just enough to get through.

 _Once more_ , he thought, readjusting and then heaving against the door. It shifted a couple of centimetres and something suddenly fell through onto Din. Expecting the sharp clang of metal on his armour, it didn’t fall so much as slump, and when Din grabbed at it to throw it off, he was met with a handful of something soft.

In a panic, Din tossed the body down, jumping back and jerking out his blaster. Face up, eyes wide and mouth agape, the dead Nikto stared up at Din. A large blaster wound burned a hole through their chest and their skin was grey and discoloured with decay. Had his helmet not been filtering the air, he probably would have smelled it before he saw it.

Din sucked in a breath, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. It had only just started to come down, though, when a noise drew Din’s attention. It was the first thing he had really heard since he had been transported onto the ship, and the very echo of it through his audial sent a cold wave of dread through his stomach and up his throat.

It was the unmistakeable clanking of a droid.

Quick as a knife, Din was hauling himself through the opening in the blast door and crouching down, back against the durasteel, with his blaster raised. It had definitely come from behind him, and was getting louder. He could hear the creak of gears and hydraulics and the slap of metal on the floor, pieces of rubble skittering as they were kicked with each step.

Centring his breath, Din held himself still, curling his finger around the trigger as he listened to the footsteps growing closer and closer. It was large, heavy, and the way it sounded was horribly familiar. Din tried to push away the memories creeping in at the edges of his focus and tensed his legs. Closer, closer–

Din whipped up, aiming his blaster at… nothing. The hallway was empty. Din blinked, and then jerked around to point the blaster behind him. Again, nothing. He was still alone. A mixture of confusion and adrenaline, Din turned to look back through the blast door one more time. He had definitely heard something. Perhaps it had just walked by rather than approach the blast doors as Din had thought. Regardless, Din didn’t holster his blaster as he started down the hallway towards the light. Instead, he let it drop just slightly, and lifted his vambrace to try and open a comm channel again.

~ ~ ~

Corin sighed, leaning back in his seat. It had been over an hour since Din had gone into the ship, and still he had heard nothing. Not since Din had called up about the power, something Corin had checked over three times before descending into the cargo bay to see what the Mandalorian had been on about. He just found the cargo bay empty, with the power at normal levels. Feeling uneasy that Din hadn’t reported in since he had entered the ship, Corin had returned to the cockpit to wait with the child. He considered trying to comm Din, but he decided to wait in case there was a reason Din wasn’t making radio contact.

The child was strangely quiet. Corin had unscrewed the top of one of the control levers on the console and given the little steel ball to him as a distraction, but he merely sucked on it, his large eyes flicking between Corin and the door of the cockpit. Somehow, it only made Corin worry more and a few times he had to stop himself from opening a comm channel just for something to do.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Corin had finally said when he had caught the child staring at him again, “Din will be back soon. Soon.” _He_ wasn’t even convinced by his own words, and the child gave him a frown.

“Fine,” Corin said, turning the chair and reaching out to the console, “I’ll comm Din.”

As if his intention had been read, the comm suddenly came to life and Corin jumped.

_-orin? Do you copy, Corin are you there?_

“I’m here, Din,” Corin answered, relaxing into his seat at the sound of his _cyare_ ’s voice.

_Finally, I wasn’t able to get through. Listen I think there’s at least one hostile on the ship_.

“What about the crew?”

_Dead or evacuated. It’s a mess down here and whatever happened, happened a while ago. Corin–_

Din paused, a breath coming out in a wave a static before he continued, _Corin, you have to be prepared to detach the ship and leave if I say so._

“What?” Corin shook his head, even though Din couldn’t see him, “No way am I leaving you here.”

_Whatever is on this ship has to know that we’ve landed. It’s just a matter of time before they try to go for the Crest. I’m trying to find the cockpit and get the power back on so I can open the hatch, but you have to promise me that if I tell you to, you leave. For the kid’s sake._

Corin wanted to argue. Heat flared up in his stomach and formed words that sat on the tip of his tongue, ready to be bitten out, but in this instance it would just be a waste of time. When it came to the child, Din knew that they both would do anything to keep him safe. And as much as Corin hated the idea of it, if something really was threatening the RazorCrest and Din told him to leave, he would. Against both his and the child’s better judgements.

_Promise me, Corin._

Running a hand over his face, Corin ignored the accusing look the child was giving him from his bassinet, “I promise.”

_Good. I’ll let you know when I find the cockpit._

The comm channel went flat. The child pulled the ball out of his mouth and waved it in the air, gurgling loudly. Corin looked over. “I don’t like it any more than you do,” he said, standing and walking over so he could pick the child up, “But it’s only if it comes to it–”

Corin paused, and then glanced over his shoulder at the door of the cockpit. The child made a small noise, curling his fist into Corin’s shirt. Straining his ears, Corin took a step forward. And then he heard it again. A distant knocking.

“Please!” Corin and the child whipped their heads around to the comm, the voice high pitched and urgent, “Please, someone let us in!”

~ ~ ~

Turning a corner, Din stopped. Then, with a frustrated groan, he kicked a piece of metal and sent it sliding across the floor into a pile of wires. This was the third time he had found his way back to the same set of half opened blast doors. It had turned out that the bright glow he had seen through them was just the overhead light of a larger intersection of hallways, and gave no indication of which direction the cockpit might be in.

He didn’t want to, but Din had to admit that he was lost. No matter which way he turned, he always ended up facing those damned blast doors again. It was unsettling, walking by rubble that he thought he might have seen before and trying to ignore the familiar pattern of blaster marks on the walls. The halls seemed to stretch longer and longer with every turn, until Din inevitably ended up at the blast doors again. He had even tried climbing back through, past the dead Nikto, only to end up back on the other side of the doors a few minutes later. The frustration soon melted to unease that settled in the pit of Din’s stomach. The longer he spent on this ship, the more he regretted coming here in the first place. Something was very wrong.

Turning, Din decided to try and head back to the main intersection. There had been a console there, and while it had looked dead, Din was going to try and see if he could get it working to try and locate the cockpit. He had barely taken two steps though when the familiar sound of distant clanking came echoing down the corridor.

Dropping himself against the wall, Din lifted his blaster up, listening carefully. This time it was further away, and Din couldn’t tell if it was getting closer or not. Peering around the corner just the slightest, Din swallowed when he saw the flash of a shadow move across the wall. He pulled himself back in, readjusting his grip on the blaster and took a deep breath.

 _It’s just a droid, it’s just a droid_ , he repeated to himself in his mind, and with a final steeled conviction, Din darted around the corner, blaster raised, towards where he had seen the shadow move. Speeding down the hall, Din dodged the debris and sparking wall panels, blaster outstretched and at the ready. His breath was loud in his ears and his focus was single-mindedly on the turn coming up ahead, where he had seen the shadow disappear around. _It’s just a droid, it’s just a droid–_

With a final sweep of his arm, Din rounded the corner, planting his feet firmly and centring his blaster in his sights. What he saw was neither a droid, nor some other hostile being. Instead, it was a circular opening to what looked to be the cockpit. Lowering his blaster, Din took a couple steps backward and looked back down the hall. At the end was the lit intersection. He looked back to the cockpit. How had he been wandering around for so long and missed this? A warning tingled up the back of his neck and, approaching cautiously, he lifted his blaster to enter the cockpit.

~ ~ ~

“Please! Someone, please help us! Let us in, let us–”

Stalking over to the console, Corin slammed his hand down on the button to close the comms for the fourth time that hour. Curled up in his other arm, the child gripped at his sleeve, silent. Quiet filled the cockpit again, only punctuated by a distant sound that Corin tried to ignore:

**Knock. Knock. Knock.**

Whatever was going on, Corin didn’t like it one bit, nor could he explain it. When he had first heard the knocking, he had tried to go investigate, but the child had begun making a fuss, nearly to the point of a tantrum before Corin could even get down to the cargo bay, and only settled when Corin returned to his spot in the pilot’s seat. When he tried to leave the child behind, he had made an even bigger fuss.

And then there was the comms. At first, Corin had tried responding, tried to make contact with whoever was calling for help and asked what was wrong. The voice had continued, unchanging in its level of panic, as if it couldn’t hear Corin. He had checked the systems, his comm should have been going through. Then the comm had shut off, abruptly, only to be replaced with the sounds of knocking again. A few minutes later, the voice would return, begging desperately for help and to be let in.

This in combination with how the child was acting set off every warning bell in Corin’s mind and he decided to stay put. He had closed the cockpit door to muffle the sounds coming from the cargo bay and, unable to listen to the pleading anymore, shut the comms off whenever the voice started again. He had no idea how the comms continued to be turned on by itself, but the whole process was maddening, and Corin slumped in his seat, pulling the child against his chest and resting his cheek on top of his head.

“Din will be back soon, Din will be back soon…” Corin repeated, whether for himself or for the child he didn’t know.

His grip on the child tightened when the knocking paused for a moment, and then started up again, louder and more insistent.

**KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.**

At this, Corin dropped one of his hands to find his blaster, pulling it out of his holster and spinning the chair around to face the closed door. He swallowed, resting the blaster on his lap.

Din would be back soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr at [mxartbotboy](https://mxartbotboy.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

Unlike the rest of the ship, the cockpit was in nearly perfect condition. The power was on, brightly lighting up the room, and the viewer had a gorgeous view of the system’s sun. It was a modest cockpit for the size of the ship, with the captain’s chair in the centre of the room, swivelled slightly as if someone had just stood up. To the right was the operations workstation and the to the left was navigation. The buttons on the consoles blinked without disruption, awaiting their next presses and there was a gentle hum from the buzz of power through the conduits. If Din didn’t know any better, he would have guessed that the crew had only stepped out momentarily.

Holstering his blaster, Din walked over to the operations workstation, sliding into the chair and turning to face the console. There was an eeriness to the pristine cockpit that he liked even less than the destruction in the halls outside. It made his movements quicker. The faster he was out of here, the better.

His fingers flew over the console, pulling up a power diagram of the ship. It was a maze of power conduits and energy levels, but Din was able to locate the six docking hatches with a quick scan. He frowned. According to the diagram all six were receiving power as they should be. With a couple button presses, Din began running a diagnostic of the power systems, just to be sure. It couldn’t be right, the hatch had refused to open for him when he had tried to return to the Crest.

A sudden blinking out of the corner of his visor drew Din’s attention and he looked over to the captain’s seat. A steady red flash lit up one of the armrests, brighter and faster than the others. Din stood and made his way over, peering down at the screen attached to the armrest. A pre-recorded message, highlighted as high priority. Din glanced over his shoulder at the still running diagnostic at operations and then back to the flashing red light. He tapped it with his finger and a frazzled holo popped up, showing the face of a haggard looking Nikto;

_This is Captain Duregar of the Star Freighter Glosselios. I don’t have much time; this may be my last entry._

The captain sighed and leaned back, rubbing anxiously at his forehead, _The ship seems to have been overtaken by some sort of creature. None of the crew have been able to see it, but we’ve heard it. It’s like a curse upon our ship, knocking around and making us hear voices. Strange things have been happening; power outages when power levels read normal, crew mates who’ve worked for years on this freighter getting lost, seeing things out of the corner of their eyes. This creature can make us_ see _things._

Duregar’s face loomed forward, eyes widening, _And we have seen things. Old enemies from old fights. Monsters right out of children’s storybooks. Mysterious stowaways who melt into the walls. It’s causing my crew to panic, and three have already died from outbursts of fighting on the ship. I fear that the rest of us might not make it through the night. I–_

The holo cuts out, flashing back down into the console. Whatever the rest of the message contained, the fate of the rest of the crew remained abundantly clear. Before Din could linger on the unfortunate Captain Duregar any long, though, a loud sound rang out through the cockpit and he whirled around to face the door.

**KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.**

~ ~ ~

With a frustrated sound, Corin ripped off the panel of the comm system. The begging and crying of the voice had grown to unbearable levels and this time, wasn’t turning off. Plucking at the wires, Corin disconnected the comm system, unplugging the main power conduit and watching as the indicator light faded to off.

What didn’t fade was the incessant sounds of pleading that had been driving Corin mad for the past ten minutes. Corin blinked down at the open panel incredulously. How was that even possible? Where was the voice coming from?

“Enough is enough,” Corin said, straightening. He looked over at the child, who had taken refuge in his bassinet. He peered up at Corin and then glanced over at the open panel.

“I’m going to see exactly who exactly is knocking on our door,” Corin said, “Stay here, _adi’ka_ , I’ll be right back.”

The sounds of the child crying sent a spike through Corin’s chest, but he ignored it as he climbed down the ladder into the cargo hold. Here, the voice was quieter, clearly still coming from the cockpit, but the sounds of the knocking were louder. Here, Corin pulled out his blaster, taking a careful step forward as he tried to locate the source.

As he crossed the hold, it became apparent that the knocking was coming from the docking hatch. Corin approached cautiously, circling around until he was standing over it. It wasn’t a constant knocking, but rather a few steady beats and then a stretch of silence. Corin stared down, holding his breath, and then jumped when they started again, the hatch vibrating with each beat:

**KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.**

Something was there, on the other side of the hatch. Swallowing down a nervous bubble in his throat, Corin steadied himself and lifted his blaster. Whether or not it was a good idea to be opening it, something was down there on that freighter with Din and Corin wasn’t just going to sit back and let whatever it was terrorize them into madness.

Corin reached up to his vambrace to open the hatch, and just as he was about to type in the command, a gurgle came from behind that made him pause.

Turning, Corin bit back a curse when he saw the child standing there, a stubborn look on his face.

“How did you get down here?” Corin griped, striding over and scooping the child up, “I don’t have time for this right now, it’s not safe here.” As if to punctuate his point, the banging started on the hatch again. The child chirped furiously, struggling in Corin’s hold as he started back towards the ladder.

He froze when Din’s voice sparked to life over his personal comm, rushed and low, _Corin, come in._

Corin whipped out his comm and turned back to face the hatch, “Din?”

_There’s something on board the ship, some sort of creature. I’m going to try to get back to the Crest, but you have to be ready to–_

Din’s voice was cut off by a shriek so piercing that Corin nearly dropped the comm. It was high pitched and horrible and vibrated through Corin’s skull at an aching frequency that had him squeezing his eyes shut. It seemed to go on forever, long enough that Corin was certain something in his ears were going to pop, when it suddenly stopped.

Trying to shake off the ringing in his head, Corin brought the comm back up to his mouth. “Din!? Din are you there!? DIN!” Nothing but static crackled back.

Panic swirling in his stomach, Corin fumbled to put his comm away and pulled out his blaster, steeling himself as he tucked the child deeply into the crook of his arm. Taking a deep breath, Corin typed the command to open the hatch into his vambrace, and he curled his finger around the trigger as the hatch swooshed open.

A few moments passed in tense silence, and Corin moved closer, close enough that he could start to see down through the hatch’s opening. He kept his blaster at the ready as he approached, knees bent. Nothing came crawling out.Nothing started shooting. The voice echoing from up in the cockpit had even stopped, Corin realized.

Standing at the edge of the hatch opening, Corin looked down and saw nothing but durasteel floor. The sound of the shriek still rattled in his memories though and Corin readied himself.

“Hold on, _adi’ika_ ,” he said, and with a swift move, jumped through the opening. The fall was about two metres and Corin rolled as he hit the floor, keeping the child close to his chest. He pulled out of the roll onto his knees, whipping up his blaster to point ahead of him, and then swung it around behind him. There were signs of a fight, blaster marks and debris littering the hall, but Corin and the child were alone.

Corin stood, backing up until his back hit the wall. He let the seconds tick by, straining for any sound to indicate who might have been knocking on the hatch. He had heard the sound, _seen_ the hatch move at the banging; someone, or something, had to be here.

He was interrupted by Din’s voice calling out distantly through the halls of the ship, breathless and more panicked than Corin had ever heard before, “Corin! Where are you? Corin, help me, please, help–”

His voice stopped abruptly and Corin pushed off the wall. “Din!” he yelled, taking off in the direction of the Mandalorian’s voice, rounding a corner and continuing on down the hall to his right. His heart was pounding in his ears and his breath came out in huffs as he ran. The child’s claws pricked through the cloth of his shirt, head forward and ears at the alert.

“Corin, help me! Please, help!”

Corin skidded to a halt at an intersection, looking around wildly for any sign of Din. All four halls were empty, and Corin spun, trying to figure out which route to take.

“Corin!”

The child jerked its head to the left and Corin turned, running down the hall and jumping over some fallen debris. The sound of Din’s calls were replaced by incoherent yelling and the firing of a familiar blaster. It was coming from the right and Corin veered around another corner, the sounds of fighting growing louder as he raced forward. Before he could reach the end of the hall, though, another shriek rang out through the ship, bringing Corin to a dead stop.

If he had thought it was loud before, then it was absolutely devastating now, pain shooting through Corin’s head as he collapsed onto his knees. He slapped his fist over his ear with blaster in hand, but it did nothing to block the horrific sound, vibrating down to his stomach so fiercely that Corin thought he might throw up.

The shrieking stopped and Corin gasped in a breath, blinking away the spots dancing in front of his eyes. In his arms, the child chirped and yanked on Corin’s shirt, bringing Corin back to the present moment. He stumbled to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall as he steadied himself, shaking his head.

Another scream called out, but it wasn’t the ungodly shriek before. It was unmistakably and terrifyingly human. Dread rolled through Corin’s veins and he fell forward in a half-run, still feeling dizzy from the effects of the shriek.

“Din, I’m coming!” he called out hoarsely; his mouth had gone completely dry. A small warmth pressed to the side of his neck, and a wave of relief ran through him, chasing away the dizziness and nausea, and giving him a boost of energy. He doesn’t have time to thank the child as he picked up the pace again. The halls had gone deadly silent and it was worse than the calls for help from before, only punctuated by the sound of Corin’s footsteps slapping on the floor.

Coming up to another intersection, Corin paused, looking down the halls for any sign of movement.

“Din?” he called out, looking over his shoulder, “Din, where–”

The words died in his throat. It was as if his blood had turned icy, rolling through him and chilling him down to his fingertips, freezing him to the spot. Whatever thoughts he had, whatever adrenaline was coursing through him, drained away in an instant and was replaced by a low buzz and the sound of one word repeating over and over in Corin’s mind: _No, no, no, no, no…_

It almost wasn’t noticeable among the debris at first, hidden in the flickering light of a broken wall panel. But the shape was unmistakeable, the curve of a beskar helmet reflecting shards of light into Corin’s eyes, a black visor staring dully into the distance.

Lying in a pool of blood in the middle of the floor, was Din.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr at [mxartbotboy](https://mxartbotboy.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

After what felt like ages, Corin finally took a step forward.

“Din?” He hated how his voice shook when he quietly called out Din’s name. He had seen Din still before but this kind of stillness was horribly familiar to Corin, reminiscent of fallen Stormtroopers in missions that had gone awry.

Corin refused to think the word and continued forward until the toes of his boots were at the edge of the blood seeping across the floor. In the dim, it looked almost black, and now that Corin was closer he could smell its metallic tang. His eyes ghosted over Din’s body, trying not to see how the beskar chest plate had been torn like it was flimsi, curled and open into the dark pit that was now Din’s chest. In fact, if Corin just looked at the helmet he could pretend that Din was sleeping, head turned to one side like he usually would.

He could pretend that something hadn’t nearly torn his beloved in half.

Dropping to his knees, Corin ignored the lukewarm feeling of blood soaking into his pants. The buzz was turning into a roar, preventing any other thought from formulating in his mind, and he reached out a trembling hand, his blaster discarded next to him, until his fingertips touched the edge of Din’s pauldron. His armour had always been cold, but somehow it felt colder, colder than Corin felt in that moment.

Corin’s tongue was heavy as he spoke, “ _Cyare_?” As if Din would respond, as if he called his name it would bring him back from… back.

Something squirmed in his arms and Corin blinked, remembering the child. A sudden panic filled him at the idea of the child seeing Din like this and Corin pulled back to cover the child’s head with his hand. He was chirping and wriggling wildly, one hand curled into Corin’s shirt tightly and the other waving around furiously, as if he were pointing at something. Corin still didn’t feel like he was really there, but he crushed the child against him, rocking back and forth slightly with his eyes still locked on Din’s visor, “It’s okay _adi’ka_ , everything’s going to be okay…”

The child squealed and dug his claws deep, pushing through and stinging Corin’s skin. Corin jolted, finally tearing his eyes away from Din and looking down at the child, still struggling and making high pitched noises. They weren’t ones of sadness, though, but ones of panic, as if the child didn’t even see the body of his lifeless _buir_. One hand was still stretched out and Corin finally saw the little claws bend into a fist with one finger pointing straight.

And Corin finally looked up and saw it.

It was huge, hunched over at the neck to fit in the hall, its long arms nearly dragging on the floor. Seeming to lumber, its feet actually seemed to slide sluggishly over the debris rather than step. At first, Corin thought that the creature was rail-thin but as it approached, he could see blackened bones protruding through what he realized was strips of dried flesh. Hips jutting out sharply, the creature lifted its head, the skull framed by long straggly locks of white hair, nearly as white as the glow of its perfectly round, bulbous eyes. A permanent grinning row of square teeth spread across its face, and it cocked its head. As it moved, the hair and flesh hanging off its body seemed to float, as if it were underwater and for a moment it just stared, eyes unblinking.

Din’s voice echoed in Corin’s head, so clear he might have been speaking to him then, _Protect the child, Corin._

It was quickly very clear what Corin had to do. The creature lifted its giant clawed hands and slammed them on the walls, send a down a ripple that Corin felt beneath him. He scrambled for his blaster, pushing himself to his feet. Stretching its maw wider than should have been possible, the creature let out a shriek, so loud and piercing it was like a punch to Corin’s senses that sent him stumbling backwards. He turned, ignoring the pain shooting through his head and took off running. The creature roared again and although Corin couldn’t hear footsteps behind him, he knew it was in pursuit.

Veering around a corner, Corin glanced behind him, seeing the shadow of the creature growing on the wall, and he pushed everything he had into his legs, willing himself to move faster. He had to get back to the ship and get out of here. The memory of Din lying on the floor still swirled in the forefront of his mind, but he filed it away, giving into his flight reflex. Run now, grieve later.

The creature seemed to be gaining on them, the roaring growing loud with each passing moment, and even as Corin turned another corner all he saw was another hallway. He desperately tried to remember which way they had come from, but every hallway looked the same and as he continued to run and turn, run and turn, Corin knew he was getting lost. His legs ached and his chest burned; he didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up before he would have to stop and fight.

Corin risked another look behind him and was rewarded with an even closer view of the horrible creature, mouth open and arms swinging as it slid with amazing speed down the hall after them. Lifting his blaster, Corin fired off two shots in the creatures direction and leapt around yet another corner. This time, though, he ran into something hard and firm.

Hands gripped at his upper arms to steady him and Corin sucked in a breath when he saw who it was.

“Corin,” Din said, “What–” The roar of the creature drew his attention and he yanked on Corin’s arm, “Come on, we have to get out of here!”

Corin let himself be dragged along, the shock of everything deafening even in the wake of their pursuit. Din had his hand enclosed around Corin’s arm, real and _alive_ , cloak fluttering out behind him as they ran.

Din glanced back at the creature and as they rounded a corner, he skidded to a halt, slamming his hand against the wall. “In here,” he hissed, and Corin realized what he thought was the wall was actually a storage compartment that Din had opened. He allowed himself to be shoved inside and the door closed behind them, enveloping them in darkness momentarily before Din switched on his headlight.

The creature shrieked again, probably at their suddenly disappearance, and they both held their breath as they heard it stalk by, the debris shifting and rattling under its feet. For a moment, everything was silent. And then Din’s hands were all over Corin, his face, his neck, his chest, feeling for any sign of injury.

“Thank _Manda_ , you’re alright,” Din breathed, bringing his hands up to cup Corin’s face and touch their foreheads together in a _kov’nyn_ , “I could hear you calling out for help but I couldn’t find you. When it stopped I thought the worst but– Corin, are you okay?”

“You.” Heat seared at the corners of Corin’s eyes and he touched a hand to Din’s chest, still trying to convince himself he was there, “You’re– you were _dead_ , I saw you.”

“What?” Din asked, running a thumb along Corin’s cheek, “ _Cyar’ika_ , I’m fine. I’m okay.”

The relief that seeped through Corin was so intense that he couldn’t help but collapse against Din, pulling the child in between them in a hard hug as he buried his face into Din’s shoulder. Din wrapped his arms tightly around Corin, holding him close and running a hand over his head.

“It was the creature,” Din hushed, his other hand drifting soothingly up Corin’s back, “It can project visions into peoples minds, making us see things that aren’t real.”

Corin pulled back, blinking back the tears, “The kid,” he said, looking down at the shape in his arms, “He didn’t even react at all to it.”

As if in agreement, the child burbled, nuzzling its head into Corin’s shoulder. He sighed, patting the child’s head, “I should have listened better to you _adi’ka_ , I’m sorry.”

Tilting his view down, Din placed a gloved hand on the child’s shoulder, “He must not be affected by the creature’s visions.” The child gave a smile up at Din and the Mandalorian leaned down to touch their foreheads together, the child cooing in approval.

“His powers.” Corin frowned as Din pulled away, “Do you think the creature has the same kind?”

“Maybe.” Taking a step back, Din leaned into the door, listening for the creature. “We have to figure out how to get back to the ship. I haven’t been able to get back to the hatch since I left the cockpit, though, I think the creature may intentionally be getting us lost.”

“How are we supposed to find it then?” Corin asked, “If it’s projecting into our minds, how to we stop it?”

“Corin,” Din gestured to the child, “Look.”

When he did, Corin saw the child sitting up in his arms, holding both hands out and with his eyes closed. Something shimmered across Corin’s senses, like a weight lifting off, and he straightened. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, how much anxiety he had been carrying until it wasn’t there anymore. Din seemed to feel it too, his posture relaxing as well.

“I think,” Corin could see the focus stretching on the child’s face, “I think he’s protecting us from it. Whatever it is.”

Din paused for a moment, staring at the child. There was something conflicted in the way that he sighed, but he pulled out his blaster anyways, “Let’s hope so. Otherwise we don’t have much of a chance.” His finger hovered over the door button and he nodded at Corin, “Ready?”

Corin nodded back, readjusting his grip on his own blaster, “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr at [mxartbotboy](https://mxartbotboy.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

The door slid open at Din’s touch and he darted out, blaster raised. Corin quickly followed, lifting his blaster in the opposite direction to cover Din’s back. The hallways had completely changed. No longer was the floor covered in rubble or the walls streaked with blaster marks. In fact, the hallways seemed in nearly perfect condition now, although the dim lights still suggested that the ship was in some sort of low power mode.

Din reached out and ran a finger along a panel. When he pulled it back, a layer of dust covered the tip of his glove.

“Abandoned,” Corin murmured. The child still held out his hands, eyes closed and focussed. They tremored just the slightest and Corin turned to Din, “We’d better get to the hatch. I don’t know how long he’ll be able to hold this.”

Din nodded and started off down the hall, “Come on, I saw a map of the ship, we shouldn’t be too far off.”

At that moment, a shriek filled the ship, reverberating through the walls and shaking the ceiling.

“Come on!” Din took off at a run, Corin close on his heels, and he didn’t dare glance behind him this time, even as another much closer shriek rang in his ears. This time, running through the halls was much easier without having to navigate the rubble. They darted down the hall, around a corner, and Corin nearly ran into Din as the Mandalorian stopped, staring up. Corin followed his gaze and saw a ladder climbing up the wall to a docking hatch in the ceiling.

Corin started towards it, but Din held him back, lifting up his vambrace. “We have to scan for the ship,” he said, inputting the commands. Another shriek had Corin whirling around and lifting his blaster.

“You’d better do it fast Din,” Corin said over his shoulder, holding the child out slightly, “Take him.” The child’s weight was lifted away and before Corin could lower his hand, something small and metal was pressed into it.

“A flash grenade. Be careful.”

Letting the sound of Din’s voice ground him, Corin took a deep breath and then stepped around the corner.

The creature, looking behind itself, stiffened at the sound of Corin’s boots and whipped its terrifying head around. Corin didn’t wait for it to advance and instead fired off two quick shots. One caught the edge of its shoulder and the other hit square in the middle of its forehead, sending its skull flying back at an impossible angle. Jerking its head back up, though, Corin could see that his blaster wouldn’t do much and he called out to Din, “You’d better finish up that scan!”

“Ten more seconds!”

Shaking its head, the creature looked forward, directly at Corin and dropped its mouth open to roar, lifting its claws and slamming them on the floor. Then it started to move in its terrible slithering way, quickly picking up speed. Corin fired off a few more shots, all of them landing, and none of them slowing down the creature’s pace.

“Negative!” Din shouted, “Let’s go!”

Corin yanked the pin from the grenade and heaved it towards the the creature, before turning on his heel and running to catch up to Din.

BANG!

The grenade went off, a blaze of light glowing from behind and the shockwave of the sound vibrating beneath their feet as they ran. The creature roared in pain and Corin only hoped it bought them enough time.

“There should be one just around here,” Din panted out, clutching the child to his chest. The child’s hands were visibly shaking now, and his eyebrows were clenched together tightly. They didn’t have much more time before the child wouldn’t be able to protect them from the creature’s illusions any longer.

Stopping in the middle of the hall, Din lifted his vambrace to scan the next hatch. Far down, Corin could see the shape of the creature stumbling around the corner, roaring and shrieking as it tried to regain its senses. It was still advancing though and Corin pointed his blaster despite himself.

“Got any more grenades?” he asked, steadying himself.

“No,” Din answered between breaths.

“Then this had better be the one.”

The creature was practically galloping down the hall and Corin started firing, each shot hitting with deadly precision. Yet the creature still advanced. One hand still shooting, Corin reached into his belt and pulled out his knife. He didn’t like the bleak chances of a hand-to-hand face off with the creature but at this rate, the creature was going to be on top of them in a matter of seconds. And as long as Corin stood between the creature and his _aliit_ , he was going to do everything in his power to stop it.

Suddenly, the creature screamed and thrashed its head, before collapsing down onto the ground, limbs flailing like a four-legged spider in water. It was like something was holding it down and Corin took a step back, “Din, the scan?”

“Just a few mor– kid!”

Corin whirled around and his throat clenched when he saw the child limp in Din’s arms, one hand still raised and his eyes half open. Din was cradling him, running a hand over his head in a panicked attempt to wake him. He was trembling hard and making a soft cooing noise with each exhale.

Behind them, the creature roared again, the scrape of its claws on the floor screeching horribly. As it scrabbled, it began to drag its body across the floor, pulling itself closer to them as it shrieked. The sound had that piercing quality to it again, and the vibration rippled through the wall so violently that it tore some of the panels off, sending them flying across the hall in a blaze of sparks and wires. Corin leapt back, holding up a protective arm in front of Din and the child.

“Illusions!” Din yelled over the noise, “The kid is starting to lose it!”

“Is it the hatch Din!?” Corin yelled back, firing at the creature drawing itself closer and closer.

Din’s vambrace beeped and Din looked at Corin, “Yes!” He shoved the baby into Corin’s arms and stepped around him, “Get up there, now!”

With no time to argue, Corin reluctantly climbed up the ladder, hating how heavy the child seemed in his arms. The walls were crackling under the sound of the creature, the durasteel peeling back like dried skin and debris flying around as conduits popped and exploded. Corin pushed forward though, reaching the top and pressing the button to open the hatch.

The hatch that opened into empty space.

“Din!” Corin shouted down as the Mandalorian continued shooting at the creature, “This is the wrong one!”

“It’s the illusions! Go!” Din backed up to the base of the ladder, continuing his steady stream of fire, “I’m right behind you!”

Corin took one last look at the flailing, screeching creature before looking up at the open space above him. If Din said that this was the right hatch, then he trusted him. The child shuddered in his arms and Corin braced himself before tossing himself up, squeezing his eyes shut.

What he expected was the icy blast of cold, empty space. Instead, he landed roughly on something hard. Opening his eyes, Corin heaved out a breath when he saw it was the cargo hold of the RazorCrest, exactly as they had left it.

Turning, he saw the top of Din’s helmet poke through and he reached over to grab Din’s hand, hauling him through the docking hatch. Din slammed on his vambrace to shut it and scrambled to his feet, crossing the cargo hold and climbing up the ladder to the cockpit.

With a tiny sigh, the child slumped in Corin’s arm, dropping his hand and letting his eyes fall closed. “ _Adi’ka_?” Corin asked, shaking him slightly. He was just about to check if the child was breathing or not when a loud bang rang throughout the cargo hold:

**KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.**

Corin pushed himself back from the hatch, watching the durasteel shake with every bang on other side.

“PLEASE!” a voice screamed, making the hairs on the back of Corin’s neck rise, “PLEASE HELP ME!”

The ship rumbled to life beneath him and Corin pushed himself to his feet, staggering slightly as the ship jolted. Heart still pounding in his throat, Corin quickly pulled himself up the ladder to the cockpit.

“LET ME IN!” The creature shrieked below, the knocking growing louder and more insistent. Stumbling into the cockpit, Corin collapsed into the passenger’s seat as Din pulled the Crest away, firing up the thrusters and lifting them above the freighter. With a clammy hand, Corin touched the child’s chest, waiting to see if he felt any movement. For three heart stopping seconds, the skin beneath his touch was completely still. And then, something shifted, and the child took in a shallow breath.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Corin looked over at Din, who was pulling the ship around to face the freighter.

“What are you doing?” Corin asked, leaning forward, “We should be getting out of here.”

“Not before I send that ship and whatever is on it into oblivion,” Din growled, swerving the Crest and leveraging it up to where they could see the freighter.

Or at least, where the freighter should have been.

A stillness filled the cockpit as Din and Corin stared out of the viewport. Where once there had been a huge freighter, one they had been running around and very nearly died on, was now just space and the orange sun of the system.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Din sagged forward, resting his elbows on the console. His shoulders shook as he sucked in breath after breath, probably still coming down from the adrenaline rush that Corin was still feeling. Reaching out a hand, Corin caught the corner of the armrest and encouraged Din to turn around.

“What was that?” Din finally asking, lifting his visor to meet Corin’s gaze.

Corin shook his head, “I don’t know.” He shifted the child in his arms so he could slowly lower him into the open bassinet. He now appeared to be merely asleep, breathing softly and regularly as his head lolled to one side. “I’ve heard of stories about space creatures invading ships travelling in deep space, but I thought those had been nothing more than pilot’s tales.”

“We spoke of them too,” Din said, taking Corin’s hand in his, “The _mesori’chaab_. Space terrors.”

They both contemplated this for a few moments, just listening to the sound of the Crest’s engine humming around them. Corin squeezed Din’s hand, the memory of what he had seen flooding back.

“Next time we stay together,” Corin said firmly. Din looked like he was about to argue and Corin shook his head, resting his free hand over their entwined ones, “I’m not going to lose you to some _mesori’chaab_ because you were being too stubborn about me watching your back.”

Din seemed to accept this after a moment and jerked his head in the direction of the child, “Is he okay?”

“I think so.” Corin looked back at him, “Only time will tell, but he should be alright.”

Pulling back, Din swivelled around to face the console, “Better get moving, I don’t want to risk being here any longer than we have to be.” He started inputting the coordinates for what should have been their next jump and Corin let his gaze slide to the viewport again.

The sun of the system glowed almost too warmly, the space in front of them seemingly too wide and open, even though Corin knew that much space was fully possible. He blinked; had something moved out there? Before he could look again, the lines of hyperspace stretched out in front of them and the Crest lurched as it made the jump.

And even through the rumble of hyperspace, Corin could still hear the echoes of that ominous sound, begging to be let in:

**Knock. Knock. Knock.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it! Thank you so much for if you stuck around to read every day, and I hope you enjoyed this little adventure that took root in my brain.
> 
> If you’re wondering, my inspiration for the creature is actually a Starweird from Legends. I was in search of the perfect Halloween-y Star Wars creature to use, and when I came across this one I couldn’t resist!
> 
> Happy Halloween!
> 
> Hit me up on tumbr at [mxartbotboy](https://mxartbotboy.tumblr.com) and say hi!


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